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WHERE SPRING BEGAN |
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The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | ||
WHERE SPRING BEGAN
The days were cold, and clouded. On a dayBefore the seasonable warmth and sun
The poet died. We bore him to the tomb
And, under wreaths and flowers, we laid him down.
Then came a burst of sunshine. Bright it poured
On the banked blossoms and the leafless trees.
There, at the poet's grave, the spring began.
The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | ||